prodded, and fed. It was a sterile, quiet existence, but it was not freedom. She was a spe

was the point? The only person she had

n, tuned to a morning news program. A cheerful anchor

poration CEO Brigham Conway and heiress Eve Mathews are set to tie th

smiling, radiant. He was looking at Eve with an expressi

terview clip. Eve was holding Brigham's h

ne sweetness. "After everything I've been through, finding

e best thing that ever happened to m

ir leave her lungs. It was final. The last ember of hope s

y, her suffering, her entire existence, was irrelevan

d to g

was a cold, hard thing inside her. She slid out of bed, her bare feet silent on th

idn't

no guard, just a nurses' station at the far end. She moved in the

y shadow seemed to hold a threat. But no one stopped her. No on

. The door clicked shut behind her, sealing her escape. She descended th

eal. She was no longer a patient, a Jane Doe. She w

she had played as a child, past restaurants where she and Brigham had shared secret dinner

he river. The iconic shape of the Brooklyn Bridge ro

what she

ing the tourists and joggers. No one ga

g her thin gown around her legs. She looked down at the dark

ge, her back pressed against the cold steel of the bridge. The city skyline glittered before her. It

o feel distant. The memory of Brigham's face in the all

was no more fight. There was

ith forgiveness, but with a profound, we

her eyes

-

as a copy of the original DNA test from two years ago, the one that had named Eve Mathe

n a second time. His

impos

the lab protocols. Everything w

ad been a fraud. A

a near-perfect match to Denton Conway. The probabil

ers fumbling with the keypad. He

office." It wa

Put him on. It

ice came on the line, sharp

"The original test... it was faked. The woman we have here..

the other end

p breath. "Mr. Conw

of a phone hitting a desk, foll